Interlude
by Abigayle
Summary: Serena needs to vent to -someone- at 2:30...
1. Default Chapter

Author: Abigayle  
E-mail: abbiechan10@hotmail.com  
Titile: 2:30 Interlude  
Rating: G/PG (?)  
  
Author's Notes: Hey, all! This is the fantastic new writer, Abigayle!   
Nice to meet someone with so much confidence! Anyway, this is a little   
short I penned just last night, and thought it would be a wonderful   
introduction to my writing style for you guys. You'll defiantly be   
hearing more from me! I'm currently working on several more fics, so be   
prepared!   
  
If this fic scares you away from my future ramblings, I'm going to   
be up front and say that this is very much unlike anything else I've   
written. I was kind of depressed when I wrote it (my motto: I'm not a   
maniac, I'm manic!), and it's very short (four handwritten pages). But,   
on the other hand, if you like it, keep in mind that my other stuff is   
ten times better! It may be a while, but this is not the last you'll   
hear from me!  
  
Also, please take note that Sammy doesn't exist in this fic. I know   
he's kinda vital, but I was half asleep when I was writing this, and   
after reading it, I thought it would best just to leave him out of this   
one.   
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon or any of it's characters. I do,   
however, own this plot, no matter how terrible it may be.  
  
v^v^v^v  
  
Serena plopped down in the swing set and sighed, looking up to the   
stars. She didn't even know she had been crying until she realized her   
vision was blurred.  
  
"I hate my life," she sighed once again. "I hate my life with a   
passion." She sniffled a couple of times, shifted her gaze from the   
stars to the oval of scuffed-out dirt under the swing, and continued   
basking in her misery.  
  
To say she was startled out of her skin when she heard a loud "Hey,   
Meatball Head, long time, no see!" from behind her would be the   
understatement of the millennium.  
  
"Darien," she sighed [AN: Anyone else starting to see a pattern?].   
"Now is not the best time."  
  
"Best time for what?" he instigated.  
  
"For you to pick a fight with me. I can't be held responsible for   
whatever I might do or say to you."  
  
"And just why is that?"  
  
"I'm not in the best of moods right now."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Well, for one thing, your constant prying is starting to drive me   
insane."  
  
"I'm not prying!"  
  
"The last three things out of your mouth were, 'Best time for   
what?', 'Andy why is that?', and 'Why?'. If that's not prying, I don't   
know what its."  
  
"Well go on."  
  
"With what?"  
  
"Your present state of melancholy! Why you're in a bad mood!"  
  
"There you go again..."  
  
"With what?"  
  
"Prying! You wanna know why I'm in a bad mood?" She took a deep   
breath, then continued: "I've spent the last two weeks quarientened in   
my grandparent's house without a TV, CD player, computer, or phone; they   
smoke, so it's going to take me -another- two weeks to get the smell of   
cigarette smoke out of my cloths and hair; I spent a good four hours on   
a bus crammed between a guy who smelled like beer and whose snoring   
could only rival my dad's, and a poor teenage mother who couldn't quite   
seem to pacify her screaming baby; and I haven't slept a wink in the   
past two days."  
  
"Why are you out at such an ungodly hour then?"  
  
"The same could be asked of you."  
  
"Oh, I jog every morning."  
  
"At two-thirty?"  
  
"Sometimes! If I couldn't sleep..."  
  
"Well, that's kind of obvious..." Serena said, hopping out of her   
swing. "I'd better go before my mom and dad realize I'm not at home."  
  
"Wait up--I'll walk you!" Darien called, jogging up behind her.   
"The boogie man might get you!"  
  
"Yeah, well, I've made it this far. I'll be okay alone."  
  
"No, you never told me why you're out so late--" He grabbed her   
arm, causing her to turn around. "God, Serena, you look like hell.   
What's wrong?"  
  
"Lack of sleep?"  
  
"Yeah, and the moon's made of cheese."  
  
"It's not?" she asked, feigning surprise.  
  
"You can tell me anything, you know."  
  
"And risk you laughing at me for being silly, immature, and selfish?   
I'll take my chances and keep my mouth shut? What's ten more years of   
therapy?"  
  
"Serena, I'm sorry for every time I've laughed at you in the past   
and for every mean comment I've ever said I never meant it--any of it."  
  
"I still can't tell you--you'll think I'm stupid for getting worked   
up over something so trivial--then you'll say it's due to lack of sleep,   
which I've already told you, so I'll just be on my way."  
  
"Nothing that makes you cry could be so trivial, Serena." He   
grabbed her arm again and stopped walking. "Tell me what happened.   
You'll feel better when you tell someone, and I know for a fact that   
Andrew and the girls--Rita included--are all off on vacation somewhere,   
so you're stuck with me."  
  
"It's just...family problems, you know?"  
  
"Actually, I don't."  
  
"Come on, your parents had to had one fight somewhere down the   
line!"  
  
"Not that I can remember..."  
  
"Are your parents the Cleavers?"  
  
"I don't remember."  
  
"Darien, what are you saying?"  
  
"I'm saying that my parents died when I was very little; I don't   
remember them."  
  
"I'm -so- sorry. I shouldn't have assumed--"  
  
"It's okay. But we're not talking about me. That's in the past.   
We're talking about -you- and why you're so worked up -now-."  
  
"But you just told me something so--"  
  
"Confidential. And I hope you'll keep it that way."  
  
"Of course. But why?"  
  
"I don't want pity."  
  
"I can defiantly understand that."  
  
"Do -you- pity me?"  
  
"No. Actually, I envy you, to an extent."  
  
"You can't mean that you want your parents dead, can you?"  
  
"No, of course not. But they've put me through hell for the past   
month, and I'm beginning to wonder what it would be like if I had no   
parents. If I just ran away and never looked back."  
  
"You couldn't do that!"  
  
"No, I love them too much."  
  
"So what's going on, then?"  
  
"A month ago, my mom had an affair with her high school sweetheart   
and my dad found out the next day. They kept putting em in the middle   
and I felt so trapped. They were getting a divorce, so they shipped me   
off to my grandparents' as soon as summer started so they could settle   
things."  
  
"So that's why you're upset? You had every right in the world to   
cry!"  
  
"That's not why I'm crying. When I got back, somehow they had   
managed to work things out and got back together."  
  
"But that's good news! Why cry over that?"  
  
"I'm not finished yet. When I got home, I took a shower and when I   
got out, I noticed that I had misplaced my book, -Abby, My Love-. They   
were so wrapped up in each other and the stupid TV that they didn't even   
hear me ask them to help me hunt it. It just pissed me off that they   
could put me through so much and ignore me like I was some vagrant   
asking them to do something insanely impossible!"  
  
"I can't say I know how you feel, but I know where you're coming   
from."  
  
"You don't think I'm selfish for wanting attention?"  
  
"No! Of course not! Look, I'd love to say that things are going to   
get better, but I'm not psychic. I know I'm not an expert on the   
subject of family, but I'm always here as a shoulder to cry on or   
someone to vent to. Call me up anytime, okay?" He opened his arms for   
a hug.  
  
She nuzzled in his warm embrace, grinned up at him, and said,   
"Darien, I don't know if you went on prozac while I was gone or -what-,   
but thak you."  
  
The End?  
  
v^v^v^v  
  
AN: This is so not typical of me (It's short!), and I don't know if   
it's any good (it took me 45 minutes to write it), but here it is for   
you to think what you please. While you're composing your flame, please   
keep in mind that I totally based Serena's story on my own and penned   
this after the alleged "book incident" happened, as well as the fact   
that it's late and I'm half asleep. I realize that it has no plot what so ever,   
but neither does anything else my evil Literature teacher has made me read   
all year. Nonetheless, feedback is always welcome, whether you wanna   
criticize me or you just wanna chat.. Until next time!  
  
<3 Abbie-chan  



	2. March 3

E Title: March 3  
Author: Abigayle  
Rating: PG  
  
It was a day like no other. The sun was shining merrily, caressing her face with its warmth. For the past two weeks, alternating periods of violent thunderstorms and harsh cold had quarantined most people indoors. But today… today was warm, sunny… one of those picturesque days that seem to remind you that spring is just around the corner, if it's not already here.  
  
Near eighty degrees may be common for the end of March, but in the beginning… It was a welcome change, especially for all of the people who were sick of wearing long pants and wanted to once again sport shorts. Needless to say, the sun wasn't the only thing demanding the use of sunglasses [AN: Anyone get that? No? Never mind]  
  
But, even if the weather was less than pleasurable, Serena had vowed the day before to abandon her house for the day. It was so depressing. A little joy would certainly do wonders for her stressed appearance. Maybe if she could spend the night with one of the girls, she could get a good night's sleep, and the dark circles under her eyes (presently concealed with cleaver makeup tactics) would start to fade, if not vanish. She knew she must look like she'd been to hell and back.  
  
It was mid-afternoon, and she had been up and about for several hours window shopping downtown. She had spent every last dime of her savings, save enough for a cheeseburger and milkshake at the diner in the arcade, and was clutching her packages rather tightly as she navigated the sidewalks to her destination.  
  
When she reached the double doors, she hesitated when she caught a glimpse of the guy sitting at the counter. Her first impulse was to turn around and walk away. Today was -her- day. She could always grab a burger and a shake somewhere else…  
  
But she was spotted. A passing pedestrian had accidentally knocked her towards the automatic doors, causing them to open. Darien immediately turned when he heard the jingle of the bells [AN: Jingle bells, jingle bells… whoops, wrong time of year], and (gasp) actually smiled, beckoning her to enter.  
  
The eternal decision: grin and bear it, or be rude and run away?  
  
As tempting as the later sounded, Serena reluctantly chose the former.  
  
It had been several weeks since her last encounter with Darien, but as she walked toward the counter, she desperately hoped this one would go as smooth as the last. Her day had gone well, and she didn't want some childish squabble to spoil her mood. After an entire morning of earned selfishness, she was once again her cherry self.  
  
"What's up, Meatball Head?" he called across the room.  
  
"Well," she started, making her way across the floor, dodging kids with fists full of quarters. "Let's see… the sky, that's up. There's also the sun, that bird I just saw… Oh, yeah! You'll be up (against the wall, that is) if you don't stop with the stupid nicknames!"  
  
"Such harsh words! Surly a little niceness never hurt anything. And we parted on such good terms last time!"  
  
"Ya know, you really should consider taking your own advice."  
  
"Yeah, well, I guess you have a point there."  
  
"Where's Andrew?"  
  
"Why? Here to flirt with him?"  
  
"No, I want a cheeseburger."  
  
"He's in the back. I think Rita called him. Here, have a seat." He motioned for Serena to sit in the swivel stool next to his. She sat, propped her elbows on the bar, and laid her chin in her hands. "You do know I'm teasing, right?"  
  
"When?"  
  
"Like just a second ago. Like when I implied that you flirt with Andrew. Like when I call you Meatball Head."  
  
"Like, oh, my gosh! You sound like a cheerleader!"  
  
"Here I am, trying to apologize…"  
  
"Sorry. I'm just in a good mood today, and you just totally set yourself up for that one."  
  
"How?"  
  
"By using the word 'like' every, like, fifth word."  
  
"There -you- go…"  
  
"I'm still making fun of you. Its not often you give me a long enough break to poke fun of you, ya know…"  
  
"I'm not going to apologize now."  
  
"Good, because I'm not, either!" She stuck her tongue out at him and giggled, causing him to chuckle.  
  
"What's up with you today?"  
  
"I -finally- got out of the house for the first time in -weeks-, and, well, I don't know…"  
  
"I know what you mean. How's stuff at home?"  
  
"Terrible."  
  
"Care to elaborate? Just a tad?"  
  
"Mom and Dad are -so- into each other, it makes me sick. He's bought her a bouquet of roses every other day since January, then he complains to me because he doesn't have any extra money to take her out to a nice restaurant for supper. Then, while we're watching TV or something, they'll start making out like teenagers--can you even begin to imagine how disgusting it is, watching your folks go at it like a couple of love sick kids?"  
  
"I-I don't think I want to…"  
  
"My point exactly."  
  
"So why are you just now getting out of the house?"  
  
"All the girls have been gone, and the weather has been terrible…"  
  
"Why didn't you call me?"  
  
"We haven't ran into each other on the way to school lately, I haven't been to the arcade, and, well, I haven't got your number!" She was tempted to add, 'I didn't think you would care,' but decided against it; it might spoil the mood.  
  
"Do you want to go see a movie tonight? My treat--and I'll even let you pick the movie!"  
  
"Well, Dad -did- say that he was taking Mom out of town tonight, and they wouldn't be back until tomorrow… I'll go, but only if you promise you'll come back to my house afterwards to watch Saturday Night Live."  
  
"Sounds like a plan to me!"  
  
"Ya know, I'm going to have to start venting to you more often…"  
  
The End.  
  
ANs: Well, sports fans, there you have it. Thanks to the few folks out there that e-mailed me requesting a sequel to 'Interlude', and my annoying little sister, you now have 'March 3' to add to your list of favorite stories! (Nothing like a little self-confidence… too bad sarcasm isn't always evident in the written word…)  
  
Kat-chan, it's not exactly what you wanted, but let's face it, IT'S MY STORY! And Valentine's Day was a month ago, so that idea wouldn't work, anyway...  
  
Kat-chan: Yea right!  
  
A brief explanation--yes, I know it's short, but I penned it (in its entirety, no less) during Contemporary Lit, and didn't have the vaguest of ideas as to an actual plot. Given these circumstances, I'd say it's pretty dog gone good. Agree? Disagree? E-mail me and let me know!  
  
abbiechan10@hotmail.com  
  
Thanks for making it this far, and thanks to everyone who has e-mailed me for 'Interlude'!  
  
-Abbie-chan  



End file.
